And in that sleep, what dreams?
by Unnamed.in.whispers
Summary: Summary: Jaime has a lot to think about when it comes to his recent actions – particularly regarding a certain lady of the sapphire isle. SPOILERS season 8 SPOILERS please don't read any further if you don't want anything ruined. Also – strong language is in keeping with the episode – so the occasional F-bomb is dropped but I will go no stronger!


**Title:** And in that sleep, what dreams? **Pairing:** Brienne/Jamie

**Series:** Game of Thrones

**Rating: **15 **Type: **AU/ Angst

**Summary:** Jaime has a lot to think about when it comes to his recent actions – particularly regarding a certain lady of the sapphire isle. SPOILERS season 8 SPOILERS please don't read any further if you don't want anything ruined. Also – strong language is in keeping with the episode – so the occasional F-bomb is dropped but I will go no stronger!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the Game of Thrones characters or anything from the universe of A Song of Fire and Ice. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to the George R R Martin for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual franchise. Enjoy.

()()()

How long was he supposed to stare into the flames until they told him what to bloody-well do?

The Red Witch could do it; Thoros of Myr could do it; Beric Dondarrion… hell, even the bloody Hound managed to 'see things in the fire'. Why couldn't he?

Jaime had been sat in the dark of his ice-like room in Winterfell, staring into his feeble fire since following Brienne out of the main hall, determined to explain his little brother's words or dismiss them or apologise or anything that made her feel better… And Jaime was already forming the words 'Tyrion was just being stupid,' when he realised there was nothing about the Hand of the Queen that was stupid.

Tyrion had engineered his little game after the celebration of their victory against the dead in the long night. He had waited for the perfect moment to play their game; waited for the right time to ask Brienne the question so Jaime would defend her… so she would not need defending and storm out and he would follow…

Except his little brother hadn't told Jaime how to explain all this to her.

And as he watched her disappear into the distance Jaime began to think… Was that the point?

And what could he say?

Brienne headed to her residence in the Stark tower and Jaime detoured to his own chambers; in which he now sat… in the cold and the dark… watching the dwindling flames, thinking cold and miserable thoughts about how he hated the fucking North.

Perhaps that wasn't entirely true.

He hated feeling like this… obsessing…

Obsessing over the Lady Brienne…the maiden of the Sapphire isle…

Obsessing over why Brienne hadn't drank when Tyrion dared her to admit she was a virgin; she was, after all… wasn't she?

It had been years since they had travelled together across Westeros and he had surmised she was a maid; taunted her for it… offered to solve that problem… told her he was strong enough for her where others had not been able or willing… and Jaime was able and willing… He had been then as he was now.

Jaime shifted in his seat as a throb ran through him at the thought.

And still… he dwelled… all those years where others had not been able… had there been someone in all that time who had –

No. Jaime would not think on it any longer.

Why should he? It was entirely Brienne's concern and not his. Afterall; the lady was her own and had every right to… love… whoever she had wanted.

Still… that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach made him reach to tame it.

Had he missed his chance with Brienne? Had he been so blind?

And Tyrion had known his feelings all along?

Of course, Tyrion knew, Jaime snorted spitefully. Tyrion had most certainly known the night before the battle, when Brienne had joined them by the fire; the way his little brother grinned, noticing Jaime's' reaction to the armoured woman… hell… he had noticed and cursed how quickly he had leapt to his feet to greet her only yesterday.

He must have looked like a stumbling squire but it melted in the moment she had looked at him; it often seemed they were the only two people in the room or on the battlefield or in the world.

Brienne must have felt that too. Surely…

Because Jaime had persuaded Brienne where nothing else could… at his word she mellowed, her eyes softened when they fell on him in the same way his melted on her.

She stayed with them, in the Great Hall of Winterfell… on her last night on the earth she had been persuaded to stay and drink with them… stayed and drink with Jaime…

It had been different the moment the Wildling entered the room.

Brienne had tensed and hardly looked his way when Tormund had planted himself before her, eager to bathe in the same looks and smiles Jaime had received… finding none. And while Jaime felt slightly uncomfortable at the proximity this man took to his… friend… it had amused him to hear the great care this northerner took in declaring it could be their last night on this world.

Brienne had missed the clumsy overture, not understanding the meaning behind the proposition and tersely responded she was glad he had joined them.

It was a glimmer of hope that had sparked a flame in him, making Brienne stutter over her explanation that she was glad he was fighting with them and that he had survived.

Jaime had tried his best to seem nonchalant, as though he wasn't part of the conversation… but he couldn't help a smug feeling welling up in his chest… Of course, this man would want to be near her; she was like no other person in the North.

And this Wildling most certainly wanted more than mere proximity…

But Brienne wasn't interested. Better still – she hadn't truly registered his interest, making her complete ignorance of what this man wanted delightful as Jaime hid his amusement at her distain, Jaime suddenly realised he hadn't been as covert as he believed himself to be as the wild look in the tall man's eye turned on him…

A strange stand-off… but Tormund had seen there was something between The Lord of Casterly Rock and the Lady of the Sapphire Island; more than likely, the same thing Tyrion had seen.

Because there was something there; they had a connection.

The night had worn on and Jaime grew confident in Brienne's lack of interest in the Wildling man… until he asked the question… why was Brienne not a Knight?

"Women can't be Knight's," she dismissed.

"Why not?" Tormund had asked.

"Tradition."

"Fuck tradition," he responded, actually making Jaime smile.

The Wildling had a point. The Maid of Tarth was the most honourable… most noble… the best of all Knights he had ever known and it took that moment to realise he was able to offer her something.

Yes; there were some things she may have never allowed him to give; but that look in her eyes… how fragile she was in trusting him…

It was a moment that had brought a clarity to Jaime; this was why he was in Winterfell.

When he was asked that question in the great hall only days ago, it was all he could do not to turn and look at her.

Why had he made the journey from Kingslanding? Yes, he had sworn to fight for the living.

And he would only do so beside Brienne; if she would have him.

She had placed herself between him and the Dragon Queen's onslaught on that day… swearing his allegiance and vouching for his honour…

And Jaime sighed as he recalled that night and wondered if that was the moment he knew he loved her.

Perhaps he had known when he had made the leap in Harenhall… Perhaps even before that.

Jaime had been so indoctrinated by his father and by Cercie that he had overlooked, ignored and downright lied about how he truly felt for Ser Brienne of Tarth that as he stood in the Great Hall, saying the words and looking into her eyes he felt the breath leave his lungs.

Had he waited too long?

There was a man in the room celebrating her in a way Jaime himself had not allowed himself to; all Jaime had allowed himself was recognise her as an equal. Tormund saw her as a woman and let everyone in the room know it.

Jaime thought on that.

On how much Brienne attempted to extinguish the red haired mans interest in her.

And she hadn't drank at Tyrion's game.

It couldn't have been him, could it? Was that the reason she was awkward around the Wildling? Had there been something between them she regretted?

Tormund was strong, yes, but Brienne dreamed of Knights and nobility… while this Wildling was noble, in his own way, he was no Knight.

Perhaps he was being ridiculous… and there was only one way to cure that…

Jaime looked at the empty cup at his side-table; the wine was gone… and almost the fire along with it.

Was she gone as well?

Brienne clearly had suitors… and she was a proud figure in the service of a Great House.

Even the way her squire looked at her showed how much she was respected and even desired… Why would she need a one-handed, old man?

Why would anyone?

A knock came at his door, Jaime's heart all-but leapt into his throat. He was there so fast he hadn't known how it happened and was unlatching the handle to-

Not Brienne.

The young woman's insipid smile turned his stomach, "I'm here to turn down your bed, my Lord."

Jaime nodded his head; figured.

He stepped aside and let her sachet into the room.

The young, brunette thing moved straight for the bed and took care to bend across it, looking back to him as she drew the pelts and woven blankets back.

Jaime took back his seat, throwing another log onto the fire… watching it smother what little warmth was there.

Brienne hadn't drank when Tyrion had said she was a virgin – that thought he kept returning to him…

"Will there be anything else," the young woman asked slowly, emphasising, "my Lord?"

"No thank you," Jaime dismissed, "please, make your way back to the celebrations."

If only he could think of a way… an excuse…

The screech of his table brought him back to the moment as it dragged closer to his chair…

The young woman slammed a full jug of wine onto the surface, letting the fluid wave over the lip and down the neck, across the table.

Careless.

"You are a hero of Winterfell, Ser Jaime," she informed him, regardless of his interest.

He watched the fire smoke into extinction.

"Trust me," she continued, draping herself over his lap and presenting two goblets, "It's Dawnish… it's good." Then she leaned in to whisper, "You deserve this."

And for the first time, Jaime saw her.

Yes – perhaps he did deserve a moment of happiness; perhaps he could bring her some happiness in the midst of this nightmare as well… if she was willing.

"You're right," Jaime smiled, "this is exactly what I need."

The chambermaid's breath hitched as his hand moved up her back… and he moved her aside, clamping the goblets under his arm and snatching the jug of Dawnish wine…

"Enjoy the fire," he told her as he made his way to the Starks tower.


End file.
